The Heartwood A First Step into the Wild

((OOC: A greetings to you fine Sir/Madame that first reads this post! I offer any such person the opportunity to both reply and inform me as to the appropriateness or quality of my post. As I am fairly uncertain just what tone and/or mood to put into the find Role-Play site.))

Short, familiar pants extend and retract from Samson's open mouth. At the same moment the Dog feels an old, almost forgotten mixture of exhaustion and restlessness. Trees, innumerable, massive, and exuberant behemoths extend far as he can see into the overgrown wood ahead.

The heavy Dog slows to a halt, at the cusp of the treeline. A twist of his neck to look behind himself and Samson can see only an ever-lengthening stretch of green, a sight equally as alien to him as the giants of wood and leaves ahead of him. Samson took the catching of breath as a moment to lay upon the thinning patch of grass he had stood upon. When the Dog could spend time to rest, he could also spend that time thinking. Samson had been told to run, had been commanded to leave. But to where? To what sanctuary? Would he find it in the utterly humongous rocks that were now so much closer?

Samson's breath steadies, his muscles now calm from their burning and aching. It is time to run again. Energetically the Dog jumps into a sprint, dashing into the woods ahead. Samson didn't have the slightest inkling of where he was going, where he'd end up, or what he was even trying to find. Though at least the aged Dog knew he was getting somewhere.